


A Bit Like a Cat

by NeuroWriter14



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cats, Do not repost, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, M/M, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Slight allusions to animal abuse and animals in pain, The cat's ok though, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 18:21:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,572
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30126945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeuroWriter14/pseuds/NeuroWriter14
Summary: It's a tale (tail) as old as time. Winston finds a cat. Hannibal hates the cat. It's Hannibal's cat now.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 14
Kudos: 115





	A Bit Like a Cat

Will didn't know how exactly Hannibal had managed to contact Chiyoh after the two of them arrived in Cuba. It wasn't even so much how as it was when. Will barely remembered those first few weeks after falling off the cliff. Neither he nor Hannibal were fully functional. Both had barely been able to move after climbing out of the ocean. They had only managed to make for a boat, the two of them stitching each other up while the boat swayed slightly under them. Then, they made their way to Cuba, out of the long reach of Jack Crawford who would no doubt be looking for them. Will doubted Jack would believe they were dead. But beyond finally arriving in Cuba and the two of them collapsing rather haphazardly into one of the beds in the house, there wasn't much that Will remembered. 

He knew that he and Hannibal took turns checking each other's wounds. He knew that at some point they had food and pain meds. But beyond that, he wasn't quite sure. He truly didn't even know where the food came from, though it did arrive at the time as Winston, who had been standing guard over Hannibal and Will since he arrived. 

But he didn't know anything more than that. 

It was only later when the two of them were able to function more, that Hannibal admitted he had contacted Chiyoh to help them. 

Will didn't ask for any more information. In fact, oddly enough, neither he nor Hannibal talked much. Which was odd given just how much the two of them always talked, sometimes about absolutely nothing. 

Hannibal never once banished Will to another room, the two of them sleeping in the same bed and sharing the same space. When they were able to move more, Will managed to coax Hannibal into taking walks with him and Winston. Winston, who had been such a good dog, had patiently waited until at least Will could move more and never tried to pull ahead too much on a walk. Once Hannibal joined them, the three of them ambling down the street slowly, Winston would walk ahead a bit, then circle back to check on Hannibal and Will, and then repeat. 

So, it really shouldn't have surprised Will that the first one of them to spot the poor creature was Winston. 

They had been in Cuba for two months now. Hannibal's abdomen was healing nicely and Will now only had a thin scar along his cheek. His leg still ached from time to time and he didn't have full range of motion in his arm, but it was better than before. Hannibal could stand to walk longer than before, even sitting up most of the day rather than immediately needing to lie down again once they returned home. 

Home. 

It was a strange concept to Will, that was only heightened by the fact that he had both Hannibal and Winston there. He would have preferred all his dogs, but he doubted it would have been easy to bring even one dog in the first place, let alone nine others. He had two more dogs than when he and Hannibal met now. But those were now left with Wally and Molly, the only real consultation the two of them would have. Winston missing could mean anything, truly. When Will was in BSHCI, Winston had constantly run back to his house in Wolf Trap. It was possible that with Will missing now, that where they thought Winston went. 

But instead, he was in Cuba, running circles around Hannibal and Will until he suddenly stopped, and stared at a bush in front of them. 

Will and Hannibal ambled closer, the two of them moving too slowly for either of their likings, but small steps were necessary.

Winston stared at the bush more, his head down and tail wagging slowly. Whatever he found wasn't dangerous — Will couldn't help but think — but it was enough to catch the interest of a strangely intelligent dog. 

Winston didn't bother looking back as he and Hannibal neared, only cocked his head slightly, ears flopping as he did. 

And then Will heard it. 

It was a low sound, a frightened sound. He stepped closer to the bush after making certain Hannibal was all right to stand on his own. 

A low growl echoed from the bush. 

Will clicked his tongue, kneeling even though his leg was screaming, to coax the poor creature closer. He could see eyes, just barely, within the bush. 

Because Winston was always a good dog, Will kept treats with him on their walks. He offered one to Winston first, and the dog happily took it before returning to Hannibal's side, leaning against him slightly. Hannibal dropped a hand almost unconsciously to stroke over the dog's head while Will turned back to the yowling bush. 

"It's all right," Will said quietly, setting down a treat near the bush. "You're ok." 

The bush yowled again and Will shifted back slightly. The eyes in the bush began to move closer slightly, still hissing and spitting even as Will began to see a defined shape more. 

It was a cat, a rather skinny one too. Will could see orange fur, matted in some places and completely torn off in others. The poor thing had a wound on its abdomen; a long slash that looked almost too clean. Will waited patiently while the cat moved closer to the treat, sniffing it hesitantly before nearly attacking it. The cat tried to retreat into the bush again, but Will was faster, grasping the cat carefully around the shoulders and hauling it closer. 

The cat screamed. 

"It's ok," Will murmured, hauling himself upright with the cat scrambling in his arms. He carefully shifted one of his hands to wrap under the cat's hind legs, curling the creature against his body. 

Hannibal watched carefully from where he stood with Winston at his side. Unlike Hannibal, who looked nearly affronted at the sight of the cat, Winston was cocking his head back and forth, studying the growling creature in Will's arms. 

"That thing is not coming anywhere near my furniture," Hannibal muttered. 

Half an hour later, Will was carefully cleaning the wound on the cat's abdomen in their shared bathroom. 

Hannibal was watching from the doorframe, where he had been leaning since Will dragged the now silent cat upstairs. He bathed the cat first, removing some dirt from the cat's fur. She, as Will realized, was relatively the color of fire with bright blue eyes. Will could feel each of the cat's ribs as he cleaned her abdomen and then carefully began working on the wound. Only two stitches were needed as the wound wasn't very big. He covered it after, finally looking at Hannibal on the other side of the room. 

"Female orange cats are exceedingly rare." Was all Hannibal said before he left the room. 

Will looked down at the orange cat, stroking her head carefully. "He'll get used to you." 

The moment Will let the cat go, she darted from the room so fast all he saw was an orange streak. Will chuckled to himself, resigned to find the cat later to make sure she hadn't pulled out her stitches. He would have to find a cone if it came to that. He walked through the house, catching sight of the orange streak again as he moved toward the kitchen where Hannibal was preparing something. Whether it was dinner for them or Winston, Will didn't know. He had always been careful to feed his dogs food he made, given that it was mostly meat, he assumed he could give it to the cat too. Not that Winston hadn't had strange food before, though he was the only dog of Will's that hadn't had a taste of Mason Verger. 

"I've never had a cat before," Will said as he leaned against the counter, watching Hannibal who was swaying on his feet slightly. 

"If you insist on keeping it, we will require certain items." Hannibal sniffed. 

In truth, Will didn't think Hannibal actually hated the cat, though he was certainly making it seem like it. But what caught Will's attention more was Hannibal's words. If Will wanted to keep the cat. 

Hannibal wouldn’t deny him, not even something as silly as this if it was what Will wanted. 

Will watched the other for a few more minutes as Hannibal calmly prepared food and then pushed himself off the counter. 

It was rare now that he needed a moment away from Hannibal, but now was one of those times. It was quite lucky then that he had a newly acquired, unplanned for feline companion, as the need for accommodations were required, as Hannibal said. Will used that as an excuse to leave, walking down to the small market on the corner where he had found some toys for Winston previously. 

Mostly, he used the chance to think, as he had been since before he ever found his way back into Hannibal's cell after a fake but pointed goodbye. In truth, it wasn't a goodbye. It was a jab. It was an act for the cameras that was meant to land a specific blow, given what Will knew by then. 

Hannibal loved him. 

Bedelia had made that abundantly clear. And since then, Will had been running back through every interaction he had ever had with Hannibal, and his own feelings in response. He had shoved his feelings away mostly, ignoring them because he had other things he been focusing on. Hannibal's betrayal, revenge disguised as justice, and then the annoying blunt fact that he was more himself with Hannibal than he had ever been before. Will crossed an ocean to find Hannibal, only to feel immediately replaced after meeting Chiyoh, and then seeing that Hannibal had taken Bedelia with him instead of Will. They lashed out at each other, neither fully articulating everything between them. It could have saved a lot of aches, and a few scars. 

Will was faced with the very real fact that now, since all other masks were washed away in the depths of the Atlantic Ocean, Hannibal would do anything Will wanted him to. He had waited for three years for Will to return, and when Will did, Hannibal still waited patiently to be freed. Because he knew Will would. Because, as Will put it once before, they were alone without each other. 

_But do you ache for him?_

That was the million-dollar question. 

Will returned an hour later, litter box under one arm and a container of litter in the other. Inside the box, he set the few toys he had found and the cone he bought just in case the cat decided to pull at her stitches. Hannibal was nowhere to be found once Will entered, but he did notice that Winston was currently licking a bowl clean and there was another one hidden in a corner Winston couldn't reach. Will smiled to himself and set about trying to set up the litter box and the toys, hoping to lure the streak of orange out again. 

He moved away from the toys he left, knowing that one smelled like catnip, and would hopefully be enough to lure the cat out from wherever she hid. 

Then, Will moved through the house, returning to the master bedroom which was still downstairs. Hannibal was already there, lying on his back with his eyes closed. Will kicked off his shoes, pulling off his shirt and pants and grasping a t-shirt, and pulling it on. There was still some time before dinner, but he and Hannibal had spent most of their time in Cuba asleep so far. Not like they were short on time or anything. They had all the time in the world. 

And it was that time that Will used to try to answer the questions that plagued him. He crawled into the bed, lying on his side to face Hannibal who hadn't moved an inch since Will entered. If the other was awake and knew that Will was staring at him, he didn't let on. Instead, Hannibal stayed perfectly still, not moving at all. 

Will searched his face, eyes scanning along the side of it, the jut of his cheekbones, the strength of his jaw, the pout of his lips. Will memorized everything again because he had already memorized it all before. 

After a while, he closed his eyes, drifting somewhere between wakefulness and sleep, still seeing Hannibal on the back of his eyelids.

* * *

It had been two weeks since they found the cat, who Hannibal had decided to name Encephalitis. Will thought it was fitting, considering that the cat was the color of fire and his brain had certainly felt on fire during that specific experience. Hannibal, otherwise, didn't interact with the cat at all to Will's knowledge. 

She had become more social in the two weeks since they brought her back. Will could see the patches where the fur had been ripped out were starting to grow in slightly, and the wound on her abdomen was healing nicely. She would sit in the window, watching everything with massive blue eyes and only slightly batting at Winston when the dog was too close for her liking. Otherwise, Will had managed to coax her close with food, petting her head until he moved too quickly. Then she would shoot from the room like she was struck by lightning. In the previous few days though, she would come back. 

Hannibal had gained considerable strength over those last two weeks and now was often awake before Will was and spent most of the day awake as well. Since Hannibal didn't sleep as much, Will didn't sleep as much and as a result, had to find other things to occupy his time. 

Most of it was spent out at the dock of the boat which they had taken to Cuba. 

Will hadn't looked at it much or even thought about the fact that Hannibal's house in Cuba had a dock that was only accessible from the back door. 

The house was nestled on a hillside. The front door opened to a small street which was within easy walking distance of the town nearby. The hill itself provided ample protection from the surrounding areas and assured that no one could come in from any direction except the front. The back door, a sliding glass door, led to a set of wooden stairs that lead to a private beach with a dock close by. 

Now that he could properly see the boat, he knew what exactly it was, and what it meant. This was _his_ boat. The one he had built. The one he sailed across the ocean for Hannibal once upon a time and then did so again as they made for Cuba. Will knew his way around it immediately, still remembering the hours spent first building it then on it as he traveled. He could even see a nick he left in one piece of the engine as he scrambled over it, trying to reach his chimney where he could swear an animal was caught. 

He never fully comprehended his motives for driving an hour in the snow to tell Hannibal about that night, what happened after he opened a hole in his chimney. 

Had he truly loved Hannibal back then too? 

Will took apart the engine, fixing bits and pieces of it before putting it back, just to have something to do. 

The last time he had forced himself to work overtime on this engine, the boat, in general, had been because of Hannibal too. He could still see Hannibal's face dancing behind his eyelids, even when Jack came to make certain he wouldn't contradict the official story. 

_I wanted to run away with him._

Will looked over his shoulder toward the house, first seeing an orange ball in one of the windows, and then seeing the blinds sway. 

Hannibal had been watching.

* * *

One morning, after however long, Will didn't truly comprehend time anymore, he came out of the master bedroom and was making his way to the kitchen when he heard Hannibal speak. 

"-rude," Hannibal said, obviously chiding someone. Will paused in place, not yet having rounded the corner to be seen by Hannibal yet. "You cannot steal breakfast before I've properly prepared it. And we've discussed your presence on the counter." 

On the counter? 

It couldn't have been Winston that Hannibal was talking to. Winston was still in the bedroom, stretching when Will walked around him to make for the kitchen. And it certainly wasn't another human. Hannibal would have just killed them for any offense. 

It was Encephalitis. 

Will crept forward slightly, peering around the wall and into the kitchen to see Hannibal standing, hands on his hips and looking at a smug ball of orange fur who was sitting on the edge of the counter in front of him. Hannibal wasn't fully dressed, still in a pair of pajama pants and a sweater, his hair rumpled, and his face so obviously disappointed that it was almost hilarious. Except the whole scene was so domestic that Will couldn't force himself to find any humor. Instead, his heart was pounding in his ears and he was swallowing around a lump of emotions so thick, he might choke. 

"I'll still cook you," Hannibal said, gesturing to the cat with the wooden spoon he had picked up.

"Mrow?"

Encephalitis looked at Hannibal once more, still so obviously smug Will could swear that the face belonged to Hannibal himself, then she stretched, arching so much she nearly took over the whole half of the counter that was cleared off for her, and then blinked slowly before jumping down and moving to a window. 

Will forced himself to move forward and into the kitchen, feigning sleepiness still even though he was wide awake. 

"Were you chiding a cat?" 

Hannibal looked affronted and then made a face that could have easily rivaled any cat. "She wasn't behaving like a proper young lady." 

The comment surprised Will so much that it forced a laugh from his chest. The laugh caught Hannibal's attention as his head whipped to the side to look at him before smiling slightly himself and then laughing alongside Will. 

Whatever tension was between them, the tension that kept them both so silent for so long was completely broken as Hannibal turned back to breakfast, making certain it didn't burn. 

They ate breakfast for once in companionable silence, neither feeling the need to say anything.

* * *

Will never admitted that there were times he would watch the security footage of Hannibal's cell. He tried to convince himself that he watched because he had to remind himself who Hannibal was and what he had done. But that wasn't the truth. The security tapes were handed over to the FBI after it was revealed that Hannibal had been talking to the Dragon, allowing for the FBI, Will included, to attempt to piece together every conversation Hannibal and the Dragon ever had. There was a bit of extra footage, however, a lot of sitting around or reading or drawing. Will had watched Hannibal stay in the same spot for hours at a time, sometimes seemingly asleep but Will knew better. He was lost in his own mind, traversing the halls of his mind palace, feeling for a latch on a door that Will had kept shut for three years. 

But there was also a tape of the most recent footage by the time it was handed over to the FBI. 

He certainly ignored some of the things that were said as he watched the tape, alone in an office that used to be his.

He ignored when Hannibal said that Alana had him dressed in moral dignity pants. 

He ignored conversations about what Hannibal had put in Alana's beer and what had once been in desserts he made for Frederick Chilton. 

But the one thing that had caught his attention was Alana's threat. The threat to take away everything Hannibal had, including his toilet. 

_You're a bit like a cat that way._

Why Alana had allowed that conversation, which could easily be interpreted as mistreatment, to fall into the hands of the FBI, Will didn't know. 

The overall threat had set off something particularly protective in Will. And it was one of a few reasons why Will would eventually agree to help Hannibal find Alana. He knew, had heard along the way, that Hannibal had promised to take her life. 

Will would help. 

Still, he never forgot that particular sentence. 

Now, it was particularly ironic. 

Especially this morning. 

Will woke to purring. 

He had yet to open his eyes, instead keeping his face pressed into the pillow and ignoring the fact that Hannibal was still in the bed with him. He listened to the purring next to him, wondering if the cat had made her way onto the bed between them, or where else she could be. 

When Will finally forced his eyes open, curiosity besting him, he found the answer was far more amusing than he had previously thought. Hannibal, who had looked so affronted by the idea of a cat in the house, who had threatened to cook her, who had never once touched her as far as Will knew, was sitting perfectly still with an orange, purring ball of fur on his chest, one hand idly stroking down her back. Encephalitis's eyes were closed, but she was purring loud enough to rival a jet engine. Hannibal's fingers were sometimes lost in her orange fur, as it had grown out quite a bit since they had taken her in. She truly looked like a ball of fire, especially in the morning sun. 

But Will was more focused on Hannibal. His eyes were closed, but he was obviously awake as he stroked the cat's back. He was purposefully staying on his half of the bed — why they shared a bed, Will didn't want to evaluate fully — with the hand that was furthest from Will doing all the movement so as to not jostle him as he slept. 

The cat purred soundly on his chest, and for a moment, Will thought about how they found her. The gash on her abdomen. Hannibal had also been wounded in the abdomen, but unlike the cat, Will had been worried Hannibal was going to die. 

Now, however, Hannibal was as strong as he had ever been. His movement was completely undeterred by any lingering effects of the gunshot and overall was healthy. He could have slipped away at any time in the last few days. Could have left Will in this room alone or could have asked Will to move, since there was nothing effectively keeping him there. There were any number of things that Hannibal could have done. But instead, their patterns stayed the same. 

Every night they came back to this same bed. 

And Will wondered if every morning before he woke normally, Encephalitis was Hannibal's companion. 

Will's heart had stopped beating at some point after he opened his eyes and it only started again, rather violently, when Hannibal opened his. 

"Good morning, Will." 

Will surged upward so violently that the bed shook, jostling the cat to the point that she meowed indignantly and moved down Hannibal's body to the end of the bed. But Will was moving in the other direction, grasping Hannibal's hair almost too tight as he surged forward, pressing their lips together. If Hannibal was in pain, he didn't let on, instead kissing Will back just as harshly. 

"You upset the cat," Hannibal murmured between kisses as Will shifted, dragging his body over Hannibal's. 

"Mm," Will hummed in response, claiming Hannibal's mouth once again. 

"Perhaps the reason you don't care," Hannibal continued when Will pulled away again. "Is because you'd rather be the one I pet." 

Whatever sense was left in Will's mind flew out the window. Whatever doubts he still had, whatever part of him still thought he could keep some part of himself apart from Hannibal — the part of him that had yet to realize he had climbed into Hannibal Lecter's lap — were all silenced immediately. The part of Will that fell long before their fall off the cliff was the only piece of Will left. And that part belonged completely to Hannibal. 

"Touch me." 

Hannibal obeyed immediately, wrapping his arms around Will. 

Will was grateful that Hannibal was half sitting up in the bed, making it easy for Will to adjust himself over the other, pressing them together. Will's knees were on either side of Hannibal's hips, arms wrapped around the other, as their lips found each other's once again. Each kiss grew harsher until Hannibal's teeth sank into his lower lip. 

_Cannibal,_ Will couldn't help but think — mostly fond — as the other immediately lapped at the blood he drew, making Will hiss slightly. 

Not in pain though. 

"Why today?" Hannibal asked, letting Will tug off the sleep shirt he was wearing. 

"Because," Will answered, burying his face in Hannibal's neck. "I woke up and realized there was only one thing I had left to lose. And I don't want to lose you anymore." 

"Oh, Will." 

The two of them were rolling before Will had any chance to comprehend what was happening, with Hannibal suddenly over him. 

They didn't make it out of the room for breakfast.

* * *

Will still had blood on his hands when they returned to the house the night before. It had been dark outside, and the moon wasn't shining that night. 

Hannibal was behind him as they hauled a body into the house. Who it previously belonged to didn't matter. He was a pig, plain and simple. Will couldn't help but take extra delight in his death. He was a predator, the man. And the girl he had been after looked so much like Abigail, that Will couldn't not suggest him as their newest kill to Hannibal. Whether it was because Hannibal had also noticed the man stalking Abigail's doppelganger or because Will had suggested it that lead Hannibal to agree, Will didn't know.

Either way, the man was dead now. 

And Will hadn't exactly been nice about it. 

He could still feel the way the man's throat tore like wet paper under his fingers. He truly hadn't expected to be able to claw someone else's throat out. 

And he hadn't missed the dark look in Hannibal's eyes as he did. 

It certainly didn't help whatever mood was running around Will's mind when Hannibal licked the blood off his fingers. 

The next morning, however, Will woke to find Hannibal in the kitchen, preparing breakfast as usual. 

Much like their first breakfast together, Hannibal was making a protein scramble, complete with sausage. As Will rounded the corner, Hannibal fed a piece of the sausage to Encephalitis, who was lounging on the counter next to him. 

"I guess you no longer want to cook the cat," Will said, moving up behind the other and wrapping his arms around his waist. 

"Why would I ever do that?" Hannibal asked, reaching out to stroke along the cat's chin. She raised her head, letting Hannibal scratch her chin, and purred in response. "She's our cat." 

Will chuckled, pressing a kiss between Hannibal's shoulder blades. 

_Their cat._

No.

She was Hannibal's. 

And so was Will. 

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to come yell at me on [Tumblr](https://neurowriter14.tumblr.com/) or [Twitter](https://twitter.com/NWriter14)


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